The Devil Duke and Miss. Granger
Hermione glanced furtively around, the ball was in full swing so she knew no one would notice her absence. After all, it was the wee hours before dawn and all the revellers were drunk on the fine wine and the heat suffused their powdered skin as they danced the night away.
But she had a far more interesting evening planned, a shiver ran down her back as she clutched the parchment in her hand. The small scrap of paper was faded and creased, from being folded and unfolded again and again by nervous hands. She shouldn't be doing this, but by all that was holy nothing could stop her.
She quickly and lightly mounted the steps that led to the back of the darkened house in stark contrast to its neighbour which was lit up with the blaze of a thousand candles and the sounds of laughter and merrymaking that broke the tranquil silence of the night's sky.
The note had been to the young lady she was chaperoning, Miss Astoria Greengrass, written in a firm masculine scrawl. It was signed by the Duke of MacFoy... one of Miss Greengrass's many suitors during the London season. However, the young lady had been disinclined to accept the tall Scottish Duke's suit due to his notorious past and the fact that he was older than her. No, the young miss wanted a prince charming with the manners of Beau Brummell and the poetry skills of Byron.
However, the rough no-nonsense script had intrigued Hermione, who at the age of twenty-eight should have known better than to let her curiosity get to her. But the opportunity had been too tempting, a masked ball... held just beside the Duke's home. And an opportunity to slip away unnoticed to hopefully put an end to this damnable fascination she had for the man known as the 'Devil Duke' in the scandal sheets.
Hellfire! She had never even laid eyes on the man, yet she was drawn to him irresistibly. She had managed to successfully slip into his garden undetected, she slowly made her way into the hedges... spotting a light in one of the upper windows.
Could she dare? She bit her lip hesitantly before deciding to damn the consequences. She was after all firmly on the shelf and certainly not the kind of woman who anyone from First Society would ever imagine getting caught in a scandalous situation like this.
Noticing a sturdy apple tree, she quickly shucked off her cumbersome petticoats and slippers. Bare footed, she used the strength of her upper body to firmly grasp the trunk before slowly edging her body upwards. As she approached the upper branches, she couldn't help but let out a little squeal of delight, she was nearly close enough to peer into what looked like a masculine study.
Oh... she thought breathlessly, someone was indeed sitting before the fire. Flattening herself against a thick branch she edged closer bit by bit, straining to look further in.
...
The 5th Duke of MacFoy, Draco was just settling down with a warm brandy in front of the roaring fire in his study when he heard the rustle of leaves like a shot in the dark. 'Twas a standard London night, heavy with the fumes of refuse from the Thames and the dampness of the drizzle.
The sound of those leaves was utterly out of place, as an officer at the War Office and a soldier who served with Wellington in order to get rid of Napoleon... Draco was used to relying on his senses to get him out of dangerous situations. Indeed, it was those very same tingling senses that told him that he wasn't alone at this very second.
He hadn't had a reason to doubt them in Portugal or in Calais... and he certainly wasn't about to doubt them right now. Keeping very still he watched out of his periphery while reaching for the large dirk he always carried upon his person. Never let it be said that Draco Malfoy, the 5th Duke of the MacFoy's was taken or killed without a struggle.
...
Hermione's skirt was snagged in one of the smaller branches. She gave it a quiet but vicious tug in the vain hope that it might loosen. She was very close to the window now, but she still hadn't gotten a glimpse of the 'Devil Duke' yet. He was thwarting her very carefully laid out plans and now she was stuck.
While she tugged on her skirt, she didn't notice that the tall man had vacated the chair and a stealthy shadow had made its way to the window she had been unabashedly peeking through.
Before she could raise a cry, the window was thrown open and her small body pulled inside unceremoniously. Before she could recover her breath, she was shoved up against the wall with fifteen stone of thoroughly enraged male bearing down upon her.
Well thank god I still have my mask on, she thought,feeling slightly faint with fear. The man simply growled and pulled her serviceable black satin mask from her face before demanding in a voice as rough as woodsmoke.
"Who are you?"
So, this must be the Devil Duke then, she thought... slightly dazed. The fire casted off enough light for her to be able to study his face.
"Who are you?" he demanded again, his voice low and threatening, "A spy? Tell me... did some French bastard send you... thinking you'd seduce me into my death sentence."
"No... no..." she squeaked out, even though she was scared of getting caught like this...Hermione couldn't help but feel a thrill low in her belly. The Devil Duke wasn't an accurate name... not for someone who looked like him. The fire gave his golden countenance a harsh cast, making him look like a bronze avenging angel. She shuddered delicately, there was something punishing about his grip... firm and relentless. Unbidden, her mind conjured the image of those same rough hands on other parts of her body.
She could barely breathe, he was unbelievably strong. She could feel his rough hands; one grasping her waist and the other close enough to squeeze her throat.
"Then who are you?" he demanded.
"I'm... I'm... Hermione Granger..." she stammered out. Dolt! She thought had she said it as if he was supposed to know who she was? Besides, she knew from all her horrid novels that giving up one's real name during the first encounter,especially one this clandestine in nature was taboo.
And then all of a sudden, his hold becoming much more of a caress.
"Tell me then Miss Granger, has Nott sent you... you're not my usual type, but you'll do."
"What... er! No! I'm not a courtesan, you foolish man! What courtesan do you know would climb up on a tree to gain entry into your home?" she exclaimed in horror as his large hand closed around her small breast. Oh dear... oh dear, oh dear, oh dear! This evening had gotten away from her most spectacularly.
"You're certainly too mouthy to be one." He muttered roughly, pushing her back, "Who are you then?" he scowled, his hard silver eyes boring into her own.
Hermione racked her brain for a suitable excuse, "Me?!" she replied with false brightness, getting ready to tell a big lie. It didn't matter, she assured herself. After all this was the only time in her life, she was going to ever get a chance to speak to someone as exalted as a Duke.
She doubted that he'd be able to find her after this, after all they moved in very different circles. He, the Duke of MacFoy and her cousin Astoria belonged to the Haute Mode and she was nothing more than a glorified lady's maid. Her position as Astoria's companion leaves her with no ability to live and lead a life of her own, no freedom and certainly no great wealth. She supposed that she should have felt grateful for her uncle, her dear cousin's Papa, for taking her in after the tragic death of her parent's in a carriage accident.
However, the studious and contemplative atmosphere of Granger house in Sussex had been very different to the Greengrass household in London. Hermione's father had been a great scholar; a student of the Classics and her mother, a musical prodigy. While the Greengrass's preferred more earthy pursuits.
The Granger's house, while her parents were alive, had always been lit with the sounds of Hermione and her mother playing the pianoforte together or the solemn tones of her father's lectures given to a handful of young men as studious and serious as himself.
After their death Hermione had been forced to give up the property that she had grown up in, after all women were still not allowed to own property and she had had to move to her uncle's home as his young daughter's chaperone. A job she hated with a passion.
"I'm an investigator." She replied finally, having decided on a convincing enough lie.
"An investigator?" he asked sceptically, "And pray tell me, madam... just what are you investigating?"
"Ah you see sir. That is a slightly more delicate topic." She replied with a false smile, edging away from the blond giant and towards the door of the library in case she had to make a quick escape.
Draco smiled a feral smile before catching her hand in his own and tugging her closer, "You will tell me, Miss Granger or you will find yourself over my knee receiving the spanking your father was undoubtedly remiss in giving you."
"How dare you!" she said in a low voice, outraged. While she may be a lady of diminished means... she was still a lady and had never been spoken to like this before.
"You heard me." He replied arrogantly.
Of all the arrogant... infuriating... rude and callow things to say... she was speechless.
"Well, if you must know, I investigate any man who asks for a lady's hand in marriage. 'Tis quite a lucrative career, many women come to me to find out if the men that offer for them aren't hiding any nasty secrets. Is it not true you've been hunting for a wife this Season?" she replied shrewdly, thinking of a perfect way to make this shameless man squirm, "In fact if my sources are correct and they usually are." she said thoughtfully tapping her finger on her chin, eyeing him from beneath lowered lashes, "You already have your eyes set on one particular young miss."
He drew back as if stung, "Who the hell sent you?" he asked with narrowed eyes.
Hermione noticed he had released her wrist, realizing this was her opportunity to escape; she thrust herself away, mentally kissing goodbye to all the various articles of clothing she had left strewn in MacFoy's garden and ran out his own library door.
...
Draco reacted in shock and surprise as the little intruder pushed away from him and ran out the door of his library.
He had to give couldn't get too far. Could she?
...
Please, prayed Hermione... let there be a window open somewhere in this godforsaken house. Not only had she been unmasked but by now surely her absence from the ball next door would have been noticed.
Thankfully the library was only on the first floor, she knew if she took the back entrance down to the servants' quarters there would surely be an open door. Luckily her recent fall in fortunes had given her an excellent idea of where the servants entrance would be in such a grand house. She could hear the heavy tread of Draco's boots, she had to move quickly otherwise the mad dash would have been in vain.
Locating the dark wooden door in the back of the hallway that led to the front entrance she slipped in silently, it seemed that all the servants were in bed. Hermione quickly ran past a banked hearth and a silent kitchen. The back door had a deadbolt that she was quickly able to pry apart and slip outside.
As soon as she was back in the garden, she dashed to the pile of clothing she had left and grabbed her slippers before hoofing it back across the same hole in the hedge she had first arrived from.
She'd be lucky if her aunt didn't throw her out of the house for leaving her young and beautiful cousin all alone for this long.
As she made her way across all thoughts of the Devil Duke slipped her mind. After all, where would they ever have a chance to interact? He was a Duke, and she was very nearly a servant. She wasn't worried about her silly lie being found out.
...
Draco Malfoy was well respected at the War Office for his single-minded determination. Before he had inherited the Duchy of MacFoy, Draco had chosen to serve with the Rifle's in Napoleon's war. A dangerous often fatal assignment that men with only the strongest of wills and the most ingenuity survived.
So, let it not be said that he had been fooled by a wee slip of a girl, he thought with a grin as he watched the small figure struggled exiting from a hole in the foliage that surrounded his mansion,dropping what would be a vital piece of evidence in his effort to discover the identity of his mysterious little investigator.
For the first time in months Draco felt a smile threaten to overtake his lips, he felt as light as smoke... he had not had such an entertaining evening in years. His nights were often spent brooding and avoiding the nightmares that came with sleep. But the presence of such bright eyes and lively feminine vitality had broken him out of his numb shell.
Oh yes... Draco Malfoy would discover who she was, he thought with a grin. If it was the last thing, he did. After all,how many women were named Hermione?
..
TBC
A/N- This story is going to a short Regency Era piece with lots of smut. This is one of the stories I had originally written as a one-shot but decide to expand into a short story for everyone's reading pleasure. Make sure to leave a review!
AA's Full-Length Stories (currently ongoing)
Dragon vs. Maiden (Ongoing)
The Necromancer's Bride (Currently on hold)
